


No Fear of Depths

by childliketendencies



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Chloe Decker Needs A Hug, Dan needs a clue, Episode: s03e06 Vegas with some Radish, F/M, Linda needs an award for most patient person ever, Missing Scene, Season/Series 03, Terrible Artwork, Wacky Little Mermaid comparisons, the Assyrian wall needs more spackle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29877183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childliketendencies/pseuds/childliketendencies
Summary: In a missing scene during Chloe Decker's impromptu penthouse birthday party with Dan and Linda, the origins of that "insult to trash" that hung over the wall safe in Lucifer's bedroom are disclosed to Chloe, and it prompts Linda to draw some interesting comparisons.Or: Drunken shenanigans, terrible artwork, sex toy euphemisms, a sighting of Daniel the Douche, and definitely not enough spackle to cover a hole in the wall.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 22
Kudos: 75





	No Fear of Depths

**Author's Note:**

> I've not written anything for the last 8 years. This little story is very much my attempt at trying to get over the most massive case of writer's block ever recorded - in fact, the only reason I sat down to write after about a million fruitless, panic-attack-inducing attempts was because my wonderful beta [SerahAdmoni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerahAdmoni/pseuds/SerahAdmoni) had written an amazing story that made me want to help her plot plot PLOT out more, and in the process of doing so I somehow ended up typing up this little idea for my own story into my mobile. So huge thanks go to Serah for inspiration, being a wonderful beta and having lots of patience and understanding for me as I butchered the English language in new and hitherto unimaginable ways, and also to [AriaAdagio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariaadagio/pseuds/ariaadagio) for offering a lot of great help to improve my writing.
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment here, or you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/chldlktndncs)

_ "I must be a mermaid - I have no fear of depths, but a great fear of shallow living." — Anaïs Nin _

Convincing someone you're coping really doesn't work so well if your tear ducts have decided to start leaking at the same time. And if that someone happens to be a Stanford-trained therapist, you might as well give up. 

Linda's lips slide into a warm smile so full of sympathy that fighting the tears from spilling becomes impossible for Chloe; it uncoils something inside her not even Dan's return a moment later can undo. 

And even though she should feel embarrassed of that little show of emotion in front of her ex, she suddenly finds she just doesn't care. Clinks her glass of ridiculously pricey but smooth whiskey against Linda's instead, her head held high. "To the weirdest birthday I've ever had. And thank you for the party, such as it is." Dan joins in with his tub of spackle in place of a drink, and she can't help the grin that's catching the tear sliding down her cheek. They're the unlikeliest combination of people she'd ever have thought of spending her birthday with, but it's nice. 

She wipes her face with the sleeve of Lucifer's white dress shirt, and childishly hopes her eye makeup will leave a few stains on the soft fabric. Serves him right for not being there on her birthday! 

"Oh man, I can't believe he actually kept that," Dan mutters once they're done toasting her and Linda's topped up their tumblers once again. 

He’s looking at the painting that she’d knocked off the wall; she’d put it down against the armchair by the end of the bed. The armchair Lucifer had lounged in once upon a different time - his knees crossed, in a silken black bathrobe that offered a glimpse of smooth skin underneath, as he'd wickedly led her to think they'd had sex when she'd woken in his bed, disoriented and hungover. The memory of how terribly dissociated she'd felt from her body for the few seconds until he'd dispelled his own story makes the frustration in her bubble up anew now, but she squashes it down, so done with feeling angry tonight. She looks back at Dan, an eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

He slowly points his chin towards the painting. "The painting. Never expected him to keep that around."

Linda cranes her neck to look at the painting, too, her eyes widening in surprise. "Ohh! Oh. That's..." 

Chloe hadn't really paid attention to it when it'd fallen off the wall, other than making sure it hadn't been ripped or broken, and then her eyes had been caught by the wall safe and putting it away had become an automated action. Now that she's looking, though....

"Weird?" she finishes for Linda, not knowing what to make of it. The orange mermaid lounging against some weeds on the sea-bottom seems very out of place in their elegant surroundings—she'd last seen something like that in the waiting room of Trixie's pediatrician. She can't fathom what had prompted her partner to put something like that up in his bedroom—unless...? Is the seahorse-shaped thing supposed to be some kind of sex toy? the whole painting, with the stars covering the mermaids' breasts and all, some sort of crazy euphemism? Her eyes get caught on a fish with ridiculously large lips hiding in the bottom corner, and she can't help the giggle that bursts from her. Imagine looking at that when you're in the middle of—

"Hideous, was what I was going to say, " Linda finally supplies. The therapist gulps down half the whiskey in her glass before returning her focus to the painting, all squinting eyes and pursed lips. "Not Lucifer's usual taste." 

"Oh, he called it atrocious, actually,” Dan says. “Which is why I'm so surprised he still has it. I expected he'd have burned the damn thing."

Her sluggish mind needs a moment, still stalling on how Lucifer could possibly find anything sexually stimulating about clown-faced mermaids and fish with plump lips. "Are you saying you were with him"—she points her whiskey at first him and then the painting, taking a sip before continuing—"when he got that?"

Dan looks at her in that way that he always does when he's unsure, hand at his hip as he gives a small shrug. He tries that head-scratching thing that always comes next, but realises he's still holding the tub of spackle and aborts the motion, giving her a lopsided grin. "Yeah, we were..., " he starts saying but then the grin fades. 

"Definitely creepy, " Linda mutters next to them. Chloe glances sideways, finds the therapist still ogling the painting. "That fish is very suggestive.... Lips perfect for suck—" The rest of her words are drowned in whiskey as she absentmindedly drains her glass. 

"Right?" Linda sounds like she knows a lot more about art than Chloe does; at least she isn’t the only one seeing things!

Dan's amused snort reminds her he was about to say something, making her refocus her attention. "Sorry, didn't mean to cut you off," she offers, trying to catch his eyes with hers but he's avoiding her now, looking at the painting instead.

"It was when you were -- last year, when you were poisoned. When we checked out that lead. Dave Maddox? After we left you at the hospital." 

The way he's still looking at the painting instead of her, the way his voice shifts into something thin and tense, it feels -- feels too much, too familiar. She doesn't want to go there, again, not after what she said to Linda earlier. Dredging up the hurt and anger that had come in the aftermath of her poisoning, it's embedded in every reminder of that time. It's stupid. Just stupid. 

"I'm sorry, Chloe - I know you don't want to be reminded of that," he echoes her thoughts. They know each other too well. 

"Just, continue," she hears herself say, to her own surprise. She draws in a breath, exhales slowly, trying to rid herself of this frustration. If stupid is what this is, then maybe she can get past it. Maybe there's a saturation point for bad memories affecting you, and she's just reached it, and if she can just focus on the whole sheer stupidity of it she doesn't need to feel. Determined, she looks up, nods at him.

Linda takes that moment to walk between them and crosses over to the painting, to pull it up and into the light, murmuring "fascinating" as she studies it in greater detail. The momentary diversion takes away some of the tension.

Dan clears his throat, pulling her focus back. "So Dave Maddox, he was running a gallery, selling his art as a front for all kinds of shady deals. He was Carlisle's middleman, so we tried to make him hand over the formula—" 

"You mean, Lucifer made him a deal." Of course he had; she knows her partner, after all. She grimaces at the inevitable truth that knowledge brings with it. "So how much was my life worth to him then?"

"What? No! That's not what happened!"

Chloe and Dan both look in surprise at Linda. The therapist has risen up from her crouch next to the painting and looks at Chloe, her face a curious mixture of concern and consternation. 

Dan cuts in before Linda can say anything else, his surprise having given way to churlish irritation. "Right, he told you- he's your client."

But Linda doesn't rise to the bait, simply gestures for him to continue; after a moment of petty pouting so typical for Dan at his most irrational he relents. "Lucifer made him a deal, the formula for whatever Maddox  _ desired most _ , and what Maddox wanted was to be taken seriously as an artist. Lucifer was going to buy the painting in return for the formula - but all he could bring us was the list of ingredients he'd gathered for Carlisle, not how much of each was used. So we were screwed."

Linda nods. "An unfortunate miscommunication."

"Anyway," Dan continues, with an irritated glare at Linda, "after he found out he couldn't help us save you, Maddox figured it meant the deal was off. He started crying like a baby at the thought of no one wanting his painting. But Lucifer said a deal is a deal, regardless of the outcome, paid for it anyway, and took it along."

Chloe nips at her whiskey, follows the warm sensation down to her stomach. So it hadn't been a straight deal, cash for her life; maybe she'd been a tad bit melodramatic before. Maybe the alcohol is befuddling her. 

Dan turns to Linda as if she has all the answers. "But here's the thing - deal aside, he didn't have to keep the damn thing. I mean, I'm pretty sure at some point he called it an insult to trash. The deal was that he'd buy it. So why keep it? And hang it up on his bedroom wall, of all places?!"

Linda just shrugs. "Beats me. Not like he told me anything more than you already told us." The therapist has retrieved their abandoned bottle of whiskey from somewhere, raises it at Chloe who claps her hand over her own almost-empty glass. Enough alcohol for one night. Linda pours herself a large shot. "It's an interesting question, though."

It's such a typical Lucifer thing to do, Chloe thinks as she takes the last sip of her drink. Leave it to him to take a deal as literal as possible— he probably thought he was showing it the necessary appreciation as demanded by the deal by displaying it to his many guests. 

"The guy is a bloody enigma," Dan mutters to himself. Chloe snorts, almost spitting out the whiskey she hasn't swallowed yet. He scrunches up his face, managing to look equal parts affronted and ridiculous. "What? It's true!" 

"You sounded just like him there!" She can't help actually giggling at how unlike himself and how entirely like Lucifer he'd just sounded. " _ He's a 'bloody' enigma _ !" She tries with a return to her earlier attempt at a British accent, and just ends up rolling her eyes at how bad it is. 

Dan glares daggers at her when she just grins at him. "I use 'bloody' all the time!" She laughs. He crosses his eyes and huffs, annoyance giving way to reluctant admittance. "Okay, fine— I probably picked that up subconsciously, though. Not like I want to copy the guy!" 

"Oh no, one devil is more than enough around here," Linda says, holding her hand out and shaking it as if warding off the specter of two Lucifers. The drink in her other hand contradicts the gesture somehow—Chloe can imagine Lucifer swooping in, taking it from her and throwing it back with a single gulp and a gleeful  _ 'thanks doctor, just what I needed! _ '

Dan's grimace turns spiteful. "So, shouldn't you have cured him of all that devil nonsense by now?" 

Dan's never responded well to being cornered - and even less so when Lucifer is involved. She really should have realised this before laughing at him; now poor Linda is getting the brunt of Detective Douche at his worst and Lucifer isn't even around to snark at him. The therapist merely tuts, squints her eyes and points a finger at him. "I don't see how that's any of your business." 

Chloe wards off any further nastiness by laying her hand on Dan's shoulder and patting it lightly. "Enough, Dan, don't ruin the night completely by being an ass." She runs her hand down along his arm until she gets to his hand, then pulls the tub of spackle from his fingers. Her other hand pushes her glass into his empty grasp. "Go on, have a drink instead. It's a party, after all."

He closes his eyes and swallows - she knows how hard it is for him to let go of whatever devil takes him at these moments - but finally closes his fingers around the crystal glass. Gives a little shake of his head, then a thin smile. "No, let me finish this first. I need to…" He doesn't finish his sentence but she knows him well, nods, offers back the spackle. "Fill the hole first, drink later," he jokes, weakly. 

Linda snorts out a laugh behind them, managing to sound remarkably like a braying donkey. "Someone else has lots of experience with giant holes - in walls!" She drops into the armchair, her stiletto heels barely missing the painting now propped against the bed before her. "Whooops, close!" She seems to have put Dan's behaviour aside - or is a bit more drunk than Chloe's realised. 

The night is taking its toll on them all. Linda drunk, Dan belligerent, and herself— exhausted, she realises. Worn down. Emotionally drained. And more than a little drunk, too. She shuffles over to Linda, sits down on the armrest at her side and leans her head against the tall chair. Its leather finish feels cool and soothing against the side of her face. Linda leans back against her as they watch Dan go to work filling up the gap in the Assyrian wall with spackle that looks much too smooth and entirely the wrong colour to ever hide their foolish attempt at cracking a safe. She has no idea how Lucifer is going to react once he finds it. When he comes back. 

She hopes it's not  _ if _ he comes back. 

"You know, that painting… It's not so outlandish he hung that right where he did, d'you realise that?" Linda murmurs against her side. 

Chloe slowly blinks her eyes open to look down at the painting, Linda's now shoeless toes drawing the outline of the mermaid's body into the air in front of the canvas. Her sluggish brain needs too long to follow her friend's question through to an adequate response; she's not sure if she can claim she understands him as well as his therapist does, at any rate. She thought she did, once, or at least the part of him that she once thought was hers. But since then, instead of closer, they'd only drifted further apart, and she's left floundering. "I don't know," she finally says, wishing they could just drop the topic but sensing that Linda won't. 

"Right, maybe that's not the right way to…" Linda mumbles, tilting her head. The therapist clasps her own hands and stretches her arms into her lap as she draws in a breath and exhales loudly. For a long moment, she remains quiet, and Chloe's eyes drift back to the painting. 

"I know you— _ we! _ —think Lucifer is hiding something darker, deeper, behind all of these devil metaphors, but bear with me for a moment," Linda finally says, her low voice slurring a little. "Let's for a second work within those, okay?" 

Chloe nods and eyes Dan, who is still diligently pressing spackle into the craggy surface of the wall by Lucifer's safe. He doesn't seem to take any notice of them. "Okay," she says, realising Linda is still waiting for a spoken answer. 

"So in his version of his life, Lucifer is the devil, having spent eons in hell where he's been banished by an unforgiving father. Eventually he finds a way to come up here to Earth and stay, to live amongst us humans and get to know what makes us who we are." Linda pauses, waiting for her to confirm she's still with her. 

Chloe makes a noise. "A'right." 

Linda turns slightly, glances up at her. "How familiar are you with the little mermaid fairytale?" 

"What??" Chloe almost loses her balance on the armrest, startled out of her dulled state of mind by the sudden mental whiplash caused by Linda's question. 

The therapist reaches up and pats her thigh soothingly, answering Chloe's look of incredulity with a placating sigh. "Bear with me. This will make sense… . I hope." 

Chloe reaches over and takes Linda's whiskey tumbler away from her, takes a sip before returning it to her. "Right."

"In the tale, Ariel the mermaid lived under the sea, far away from humans. She got glimpses of them and found them fascinating from afar, collecting trinkets lost by them. She knows of them, but does not understand them. Until she meets one of them, and is so fascinated that she decides to become human. She connects to this one human, through which her metamorphosis begins, and she ultimately is changed through the lov— by her understanding."

Chloe grabs Linda's sleeve to get her to stop, trying to follow her friend's thought processes back to where she originated from within Lucifer's metaphors. "So let me get this straight: you think the mermaid reminds Lucifer of himself and how he's learning to relate to others— to humans?" 

Her disbelief seems to carry through to Linda, who scrunches up her nose after a moment's hesitation. "No? I thought it made a certain sense, what with— but yes, that was probably— you wouldn't— not without—" Linda cuts herself off with another loud sigh, brings her whisky glass to her lips and knocks back the contents in one large gulp. 

Chloe pats her friend's hand; Linda must really be a lot drunker than she is making it look. "I don't think so." She looks down at the painting again. "I wouldn't mention it to him, either. He might not be all that happy about," she points at the mermaid,"being compared to that." 

Linda looks down at the mermaid, too. "Oh— oh no, wouldn't dream of it!" Chloe hopes she won't, but if Linda's drunken ramblings are as strange as this one there's really no telling what might come out of her. She hopes for her friend's sake that she'll have forgotten by tomorrow or Lucifer might not ever let her live it down. 

Linda scrambles out of the chair, away from her, just as Dan puts away his now empty tub of spackle. The therapist grabs a hold of his elbow in passing, and pulls him along with her to the bar on the other side of the room. "Now! Let's get you settled in with a drink!" 

Chloe follows the two of them with her eyes, but she's fast falling back into the dulled state of mind from which Linda had roused her with her outlandish question. Abandoning her perch on the armchair, she forgoes joining them and moves over to Lucifer's bed instead. It raises memories, but she's too worn out to let them stop her from sinking down onto his pillows for the second time in her life. The bedspread she pulls over herself is calling to her like a siren's song— she hasn't forgotten how soft and luxurious it had felt the last time she had been here. And even though it smells of fresh laundry detergent she can still faintly catch his scent, or maybe that's just wishful thinking. 

Her mind, sluggish as it is, wanders back to Linda's words. As ridiculous as the image of Lucifer seeing himself as the mermaid is—she can't think of it now without picturing him with green fish scales and a tail—she can't deny that the thought behind it is tugging at her heart now that she really has a moment to think. Linda had done a good job distracting her with her crazy mermaid's tale, but now there's nothing left to stop her from letting her doubts and fears resurface. There's no noise left to drown out the one hopeful, brittle voice in her head that whispers Lucifer might have kept the painting as a reminder of her, of almost losing her. 

But if so - would it not remind him also of all that had followed? Leaving? Candy?  _ 'Just friends' _ ? And what does that say about him, if he feels he needs to be reminded of that every day? 

"A bloody enigma," she mumbles, presses her eyes into the pillow, and tries to forget. 


End file.
